Why must all of the people in my life constantly come to hate me? Was it because I always seemed to bring bad luck to me, wherever I went? Or maybe it was because I normally ended up pushing them away as soon as they got too close? I just didn't trust people too easily, and so many people couldn't understand that. After everything that happened in my past though, with my family, could you really blame me?
But, when I first met him, I had thought that he would see through all of my flaws and see me for who I really was: not some outcast, not as a musically-obsessed loser, but as just...me. I guess I was wrong though, right? I guess it's just in my genes to end up trusting someone, and assume that they would always be there for me, but only end up to get my heart broken. Funny how I always tried to make sure that would never happen, but, the one time I let my barriers down, I managed to get my heart ripped out of my chest and stomped on for about an hour or two. Oh, how I so hated irony.
I watched my attacker, trying to push myself away, but couldn't bring myself too. My injuries were too severe to allow me to simply stand up and run. The stalker in front of me leaned towards me, his ice-cold breath making my lips want to curl up into a sneer. However, as I watched him, the one thing I wished that I could have done, before this all happened, was tell him that I was sorry, for everything that I had done to him. If I hadn't been so stupid, maybe I could have managed to save him the heartache. I kept a cold face on as my attacker leaned down, ready to make the kill.